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"'Cos I'll tell you what, Denman,"-the low fellow felt his power and was correspondingly insolent,-"I'll tell you what you 're a good feller, an' I 've always liked you; gimme a couple of hundred an' I 'll hang that jury."

He had scarcely made this blunt proposal-he knew no more diplomatic way-when he met a look that astonished and paralyzed him. The cold shivers went creeping down his back, and he seemed to shrivel visibly under those keen gray eyes.

"And so," said Denman, at last, slowly and sternly, "and so you propose that we commit a State-prison crime together if I'll give you two hundred dollars. You have given me a chance to break up the trial and send you to the penitentiary. Perhaps I shall tell, and perhaps I sha'n't; it depends-do you understand?"

"Y-yes," replied Bates, faintly, as he arose with trembling knees and slunk away.

When the door closed after him, the stern face wore a smile of triumph. "That man 's fixed," said Denman to himself. "If I'd bribed him he 'd told of it afterward, and, ten to one, voted against me. Now he's got nothing to tell, and terror 'll hold him tighter 'n the Bank of England."

Something was done every day. The Alps were vast and mighty, but they were beginning to be full of little tunnels.

VIII

"I MUST SPEAK NOW"

NE evening, as Denman was smoking in the library, Isabel stole up behind him, threw an arm around his neck, pressed a kiss upon his white forehead, and caressingly ran her fingers through his grizzled hair. He drew her to his knee and kissed her. "Papa," she said, "how goes the war?"

"Not very well, according to Woods; he thinks we're going to be licked."

"He's a good lawyer, is n't he?"

"One of the best in the State-in the regular way; but he does n't know how to shoot with an empty gun." "So our case is an empty gun, is it?"

"Not even that. An empty gun 's a good club; we have n't even a club."

"Yet you think we 'll win?”

"I'm sure of it."

"You're not going to let Woods try those cases, are you? He's not the man at all."

"He'll sit in court and furnish dignity and learning. I've got a New York lawyer who can make any

thing he wants to out of nothing-make a jury think the moon's a green cheese, and set 'em smelling of the whey. It's coming out all right."

"Yes, papa."

"Is that one of your presentiments, little girl?” "Yes, papa. But this law business is only the beginning. The real fight is coming later on."

"I call this pretty real; and it would be hardly a growl if it were n't for Craigin."

"It is n't like what's coming, papa. He only stands up for it in his paper now. He is n't the general yet." "And how will it end when he is the general, my prophetess?"

"I don't know. You'll do things to win that he would n't for worlds. You've your millions; but, papa, God 's on his side."

"God on his side! And you too, Isabel?"

Suddenly, convulsively, she threw both arms about his neck and covered his face with kisses.

He drew her closer to him, tenderly stroked her hair, and repeated, in a voice that was full of pain, "And you too, Isabel?"

Springing from his knee, she stood before him with shining eyes. "Papa," she said, "they are trying to take your money and shut you up if you don't put yourself in their power. I have n't a word to say against anything to beat them in that. It 's right; it's self-defense. It's what's coming afterward that troubles me. I told Craigin you'd break him. Papa, how can you? He sprang under the hoofs of that great horse and saved your life! He's so square and brave and noble, he won't hate you, whatever

you do. He is n't fighting you; it's the miserable business."

"Isabel!"

"Papa, I 've never said anything about it before. I must speak now. It is a miserable business, and it would be crushed out in this place forever if it were n't for you. I was a little girl when Harry died, and I never thought much about it till within a year or two -never so much as now, till-till we broke with Craigin. Now I can't help thinking about it all the time. I count them up,-I can't help it,-scores and scores, rich and poor alike, that have gone to shame and death since I can remember. They come to me in my dreams-the ghosts of these people your whisky has killed. I saw them only last night,-dead men rising out of a sea of blood and tears,-and among them was brother Harry. O papa! I never dared say it before, not even to myself. Your great fortune drips with blood, papa-the blood of your own son!"

The brave, tender-hearted old man hid his face in his hands and sat like one stunned, uttering no sound. "O papa!" pleaded Isabel, laying her hand on his shoulder, "I'd rather take in washing than have you sell whisky. You say the money 's all for me. What's a million more or less to me? You've twenty times as much already as I shall ever need. It is n't the money you care for-I know that; but you 're so strong, why can't you be strong enough to give up your will? You'll beat them in court, papa. I know they 've piled up the evidence mountains high, but they can't get a jury without men on it who love you, who'd face death for you, and if that New York lawyer

gives them the least little bit of an excuse they 'll let you off. Beat them in court, papa, and then shut up your brewery and open your hotels as temperance houses. If you prove that you 're mightier than the law, papa, where 's the shame of saying you 're not mightier than your love for your own little girl?"

After waiting in vain for a reply, she went on in a changed voice. There was something awful in the low, sweet, solemn tone. "I won't go back on you, papa. I love you so well, I'll stand with you to the end, right or wrong-so well, I'll stand with you fighting against God. Will you let your little girl do that, papa? If you hate Craigin, I'll hate him too. If I don't hate him, I shall love him more than all the world besides-more than I love even you, papa. I can't help doing one or the other. It's almost killing me, but, if you want me to, I'll try to hate him for your sake."

She glided away, and a moment later Denman heard her, in her room up-stairs, sobbing as if her heart would break. "Your great fortune drips with the blood of your own son, papa!" He knew that temperance cranks had said such things behind his back, but these were the words of one who loved him so well that she promised to stand with him fighting against God-one whom he loved a thousand times more than his own life, more than everything else in the world, except his own will. The past came back to him, his joy and pride in the only pledge of his first wife's love. What a bright, brave little fellow he was! And how his life went out in horror! "I love you so well, papa, that I'll stand with you fighting against

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